So I have a confession to make – I bunked off training last week and that’s why (as I’m sure you all noticed!) there was no blog from Mrs J.
What can I say? I’d spent the day over in London village and was tired from hours of travelling on primitive modes of transport and from all the high-powered business deals I’d been cutting. The train was late and there was most definitely a threat of rain in the air. What if it had turned into a freezing downpour?? It could have been breaking point!
My namesake would be very disappointed with me, of course – it takes at least a torn ligament to get Mr Jonny off the pitch. (Or a highly suspect selection decision… Cipriani? Don’t make me laugh…)
Anyway, it turned out to be a most sensible decision on my part. While the weather was as calm and collected as could be expected at this time of year, the training was anything but. As my Welsh rugby-novice companion informed me the following morning – let’s call her Mrs Henson, shall we? – the main focus of the training exercises was on the following weekend’s planned grudge match with our sworn enemies – the nastiest team in our league. The enormous bruises and crusty scabs on her shins were testament to just how physical it all got.
Rough and ready and from – how can I put this without sounding like a posh twat? – the somewhat less desirable part of town, the team my new friends were preparing to face is the only thing between us and the top of the league.
But they’re pretty vicious girls by all accounts – lots of dirty tricks and language fruity enough to make a sailor blush. You remember our scrum-half I mentioned in the first week? The Gobby Little Pipsqueak? Last time we played this team, the ref had to send one of them to the sin-bin for threatening to “mess up that pretty little face” of hers – and then actually trying to. While the ball was in touch. So you get the picture. Anyone would think we were playing football!
It turns out the weather saved their skins though and with lots of rain later in the week (I knew it was on its way!) the water-logged pitch forced a re-scheduling of the match.
This week, I was far more full of beans and toddled along for my ritual boot camp experience. And get this – I have even acquired for myself a shiny new pair of real-life rugby boots (well, okay, Junior-size football boots with new studs) so I totally look the part. What with my smart new rugby shirt and menacing gumshield, I am certainly starting to look like a pro, even if I can’t actually play the game. “All the gear, no idea” as the saying goes!
But who cares? I felt very buoyant by the end of the session – lots of running around and charging up and down the pitch to practise different passing formations and the like (you’ve got to love those cones!) And as I jumped up to catch a rather nifty pass and shimmy past the defender, I even began to entertain the possibility that I might just be ready for a match. We have a friendly coming up in two weeks’ time; I’m free that day; the opposition aren’t that good; I’m actually not that shite – so why not, eh…?
It was somewhat deflating then to discover that the cancelled grudge match from last weekend, against the Narly Teenage Mums, has been rescheduled for – yep, you guessed it – two weeks’ time.
I feel another bout of skiving coming on…